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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850607">Haunting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDistantDusk/pseuds/TheDistantDusk'>TheDistantDusk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Canon Hinny one-shots (all ratings, no order) [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, smut with feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:01:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDistantDusk/pseuds/TheDistantDusk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wasn’t here last year. </p><p>But he followed her everywhere, anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Canon Hinny one-shots (all ratings, no order) [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>212</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Haunting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>From a Tumblr prompt about the pining during the year after DH when Harry and Ginny were separated by school. I hope this puts a little spark in your day, Nonny! &lt;3<br/>Huuuuge thanks to Flo and Liza for helping me with this, you guys are the best!!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry wasn’t here last year.</p><p>But he followed her everywhere, anyway.</p><p>She spent most of a school year with his memory lingering in the shadows of every corridor. She could almost see his hands in his pockets, his expectant smile stretching as she approached and then faltering as she passed. She was haunted by his graveled moans from the corners of the quidditch pitch, his sharp gasps beneath the tree on the lawn, his low, reverberating pleas in empty cupboards they knew so well. And she didn’t realize it at the time, but that kept her going, really... his silent presence. The revenant of what they’d been before the world fell to shit.</p><p>There are a few reasons why Ginny doesn’t think much about Phantom Harry during the summer after the war. First, she knows it’s a bit pathetic that she constructed it — constructed <em>him</em> — out of a relationship that lasted three weeks... although she’d fight anyone to the death who dared describe it as such, themselves.</p><p>Second, she’s away from school for months and thus lacks a real trigger. And third, she finds that Real Harry is infinitely more fun — especially when he’s in her arms and in her bed and doing all the things he’d once promised he’d do... even though he hadn’t <em>said</em> he’d do those things, either. They’d been quiet Harry things, the sorts of things he’d said with his eyes while he’d stared at her like he was drinking her in. The sorts of things he’d conveyed with a trail of his fingertips or a low groan. The sorts of things that were no less tangible for remaining silent.</p><p>Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. So after a summer of learning and discovering and rebuilding, there’s no small irony that Ginny and Hermione must return to Hogwarts to learn, discover, and rebuild. They stand on the platform on September the first with their respective boyfriends and share hurried, awkward farewell snogs and promise to send filthy letters — all while pretending the other girl isn’t doing the same. Together, they then make the doleful journey to the school that hasn’t been their proper home in ages, regardless of when they visited last. Together, they start a new-old life that’s both alien and familiar, both dull and soothing.</p><p>Ginny and Hermione grow closer too. As the days turn to weeks, Ginny wonders if they’re more compatible as friends now because Hermione’s finally loosened up just as Ginny’s started to take non-quidditch topics a bit more seriously. Living under Death Eater rule was roughly comparable to living with Tom in her head, but it nonetheless taught Ginny a series of valuable lessons about holding onto anger versus letting things go.</p><p>This too, perhaps, is why it takes until a Hogsmeade visit in October for Ginny to realize what’s missing — or more aptly, <em>who’s</em> missing.</p><p>Harry and Ron greet them just at the entrance of the Hogsmeade gates. Just like when they’d departed at the start of term, they each share awkward, hurried snogs of greeting and pretend they aren’t desperate for activities they can’t do in front of their siblings.</p><p>Ron and Hermione, however, seem to take this social norm as a suggestion rather than a rule. Ginny vaguely hears them shuffle off behind a shrub, and Harry takes the cue to lift her against him, duck-walk them across a path, and put her down in the shadow of the apothecary, all without breaking a kiss. He smells warm and fresh, like broom polish and soap and Harry, and she doesn’t mind at all when she feels extra definition in the arms that he uses to caress the small of her back. Ginny’s not sure how long they spend snogging, but when Harry pulls back with a choked moan, his glasses fogged, she’s equally sure she can’t see straight, either.</p><p>“I erm. I got you a present,” he manages, Adam’s apple bobbing.</p><p>Ginny thinks they’ve both underestimated how badly she wants him, though, because she immediately makes a joke about sex.</p><p>“I noticed,” she says dryly, brushing against the hardness pressing into her waist.</p><p>Harry chuckles. “That’s... a remarkably low bar to be considered a gift, Ginny. Someone should really talk to your boyfriend about giving you better presents.”</p><p>“Oh, so you’ve met my boyfriend!” she says brightly. “Brilliant, I was dreading the awkward introduction.”</p><p>Harry pulls back to clear his glasses with a quick <em>Impervius</em>. “Yeah,” he says fairly, examining the lenses in the light. “I mean, I wouldn’t call us friends, but I hear he’s quite talented.”</p><p>He slides his glasses back on and takes her hand. She has no idea where he’s taking her, but she doesn’t question his deliberate strides down the street.</p><p>“Mm,” she agrees, skipping a bit to keep up. “There are two main talents I can think of.”</p><p>“Oh?” Harry takes a distracted look around, like he’s searching for someone.</p><p>“First, coming back to life,” she says, giving his hand a grateful squeeze. Harry swallows and shoots her a soft, affectionate look from over his shoulder.</p><p>“And the second?” he deadpans, his green eyes darkened with lust. Even while turned on, he has the nerve to know she’s setting him up for a joke. Unbelievable!</p><p>As they come to a stop outside Three Broomsticks, Ginny decides to make it a good joke, indeed. So she arches a brow and plainly enunciates, “Of course, the second talent would have to be eating—“</p><p>“—HEY!” Ron’s voice booms as Harry chortles into his palm.</p><p>Ginny looks up, unperturbed, even as Harry falls to pieces. Ron and Hermione are standing a few meters ahead, each red-faced, each with their clothing askew. Harry rolls his eyes, but she knows exactly what he’s thinking: Just imagine how they’d look if she’d finished that thought. And they’d heard it.</p><p>Ron’s demeanor changes when he sees them… and for a split-second, Ginny’s afraid she <em>has</em> finished the thought, and he <em>has</em> heard her. As she and Harry walk closer, Ron loses his confident swagger, his face paling, his shoulders slouched; if Ginny didn’t know better, she’d say that her brother was thinking (very broadly) about the concept of her and Harry. <em>Together</em>. Because Merlin knows she’s seen that expression on his face more times than she can count.</p><p>But when the four of them are standing nearly toe-to-toe, Ron sets his jaw in grim determination and peers over at Harry. “Did you tell her?” he mutters, squinting in the dying sunlight.</p><p><em>Blegh</em>.</p><p>Now Ginny’s the one feeling queasy. She knows it makes her a bloody hypocrite, but she can’t handle hearing her brother’s voice all deep and scratchy, like he’s been groaning and moaning and—</p><p>“Erm, we never got the chance?” Harry says weakly. The corners of his lips twitch. “We were... a bit busy.”</p><p>Ron makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat as Ginny turns to Harry with narrowed eyes. “Tell me what?”</p><p>Harry shrugs. “Like I said, I got you a present.”</p><p>Ginny swats him on the chest. “I told you, I don’t need a present!” But then she drops her voice, leaning in to trail her finger along the seam of Harry’s jacket. “What I could use, though,” she murmurs, meeting his eyes, “is a good—”</p><p>“We have rooms at Three Broomsticks!” Harry blurts, loud enough for everyone to hear. Ron explodes with a swear and mutters something about “terrible fucking ideas,” and it’s not until then that the pieces in Ginny’s head slide into place.</p><p><em>Oh!</em> She glances at the pub behind them, which suddenly seems far more warm and welcoming than she’d ever thought.</p><p>That’s… oh!</p><p>But wait, no, something doesn’t quite—</p><p>Ginny rips her head away from to peer over at Ron and Hermione, her eyes narrowed — and ahh, fuck, this whole thing has been a sham! They <em>definitely</em> knew! She can read it on their bloody faces, can’t she, as they do that thing where they shuffle in place? For two people allegedly good at strategy, they’re shit at hiding when they’ve been caught bang to rights.</p><p>At least Ron has the decency to look a bit green at the gills as he peers in the direction of the pub, like he’s just realized — or perhaps just accepted — that Harry and Ginny are about to do what <em>he and Hermione</em> are about to do. Hermione, though, couldn’t seem more flush-faced and content, like she’s wearing her smugness as a badge of honor. Bloody morons, the pair of them…</p><p>Ginny turns back to Harry with a raised pointer finger, her mind filled with questions (<em>How long did Hermione know? Was Ron really involved in this process… really? Should I get used to this during these weekends?</em>) but before she can ask any of them, he cuts her off with a nod towards the pub.</p><p>“So erm... shall we?” Harry asks, his voice unexpectedly timid. Then he gives her that familiar sheepish grin as he rubs his hand on the back of his neck.</p><p>Ron makes another disgusted sound from behind them — which Hermione quickly soothes with a murmur.</p><p>And although Ginny would love to maintain an air of self-righteous indignation, she decides to let her boyfriend try this grand-gesture-chivalry-thing, after all.</p>
<hr/><p>The second they’re in the room, Harry shoves her against the door.</p><p>“Does McGonagall know?” Ginny demands with her last bit of brainpower as Harry’s mouth nibbles on her jaw. “Because I can’t... <em>mmm</em>... I imagine her being ok with—”</p><p>Harry replies with a startled laugh, but it seems the reminder of McGonagall has cooled his ardor a bit.</p><p>“Not unless you plan to tell her!” he says darkly, taking out his wand. “But fair point, this place could probably be more secure.” Then — with one jacket sleeve dangling from his shoulder, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, and a visible bulge pressing against his trousers — Harry proceeds to very stoically cast a series of charms around the room, his eyes flitting from corner to corner.</p><p>Ginny would laugh if she didn’t match his desperation.</p><p>“No, no, I’m not really worried about that!” She sinks down to the bed to toe off her trainers. “I was just wondering if you’d got permission for us to stay a bit longer, but you answered my question. Anyway.” She waves her hand dismissively and unbuttons her jeans. “Why are you so paranoid? Everyone and their <em>mum</em> knows we’re shagging, Harry. You can’t expect that to be a secret!”</p><p>He gives a humorless chuckle and casts the contraceptive charm. “Yeah, but knowing in theory is a bit different from seeing my pasty white arse on the front page of <em>The Prophet</em>.” He puts his wand on the bedside table and shrugs his shirt off the rest of the way. “Trust me when I say that I’ve <em>seen some shit</em> these past two months, Ginny — and I don’t mean dark shit. I mean like, middle aged women who somehow find me delectable!”</p><p>He shudders and he tugs off his jeans; Ginny wonders if he’ll ever accept what a fucking hero he is, but she answers her own question almost immediately: Of course he won’t. He <em>never</em> will. This is the man who saved the bloody world a few months ago, but never even thought to ask for permission to actually shag her overnight.</p><p>Ginny bites her lip as he finishes undressing. He’s heartwarming and ridiculous at the same time, isn’t he?<em> Harry</em>. This person who’s carelessly sexy and sloppy and perfect... this person whose idea of a grand gesture involves hatching a plan with her brother.</p><p>Then he lies down beside her with a timid smile that doesn’t match the arousal jutting out in front of him, and as he soflty brushes the hair away from her face, Ginny will be damned if her heart doesn’t swell to a million times its size.</p>
<hr/><p>He fucks her deeply, passionately... the type of shagging she knew she was in for when she first heard about his plan. It’s the type where he stares into her eyes and watches with breathless wonderment as he makes her come — twice. It’s the type where she feels his heartbeat with his pulse as he finally spills himself inside her with a strangled roar. It’s the type of shag that sets her nerve endings on fire and steals her breath and makes her feel a startling sense of connection... to the universe. To her body. To her soul.</p><p>But most importantly, to him.</p><p>To Harry. <em>Her</em> Harry... the one with the racing, reckless mind and loose grasp on authority and suddenly defined arm muscles that he uses to roll them over until she’s lying on his chest.</p><p>He came — and hard. She knows he came so hard that he’s scarcely breathing, so hard that his world is surely an array of pinpricks exploding in the darkness... but he’d never, ever be blind enough to forget about her. And as she lays there, her cheek pressed against his heart (the one that’s miraculously, somehow, still beating), a realization that’s been glinting at the edges of her mind slams into her like a ton of bricks: He hasn’t haunted her this year at all.</p><p>Ginny exhales on a shudder and bites her lip, but his warm weight keeps her from slipping. He anchors her to earth, this Real Harry... the one she’d ached for and pined for and craved, but not as a figment of a memory.</p><p>Her heart hammers, her pulse races, as she makes sense of it all. As she tries to come to terms with it. As she considers how to explain to her boyfriend that he’d once been everywhere (when he wasn’t happy), and how he’s now nowhere (when he is).</p><p>Harry gets there first.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” he rumbles, his hand coming up to stroke her hair.</p><p>A smile lifts her left cheek, still flush against his chest. What else can she do, really, but smile? “Nothing’s... exactly wrong.”</p><p>“Nothing <em>exactly</em>,” Harry agrees, threading a tendril through his fingers. “But seriously, Ginny, I know you a bit better than that by now.” He trails off with a chuckle that makes her head bounce, and she grins even more broadly; she loves the proof of him, the evidence he’s here.</p><p>“Erm, you do know we’ve shagged quite a lot, yeah? Enough times for me to know what’s normal with you — and what’s not.” He shifts his thumb to brush her jawline and clears his throat with an air of formal importance. “So. If you’ve got any complaints about my performance, I highly recommend you formally share those with the HR department before—“</p><p>“—Last year was fucking horrible,” she breathes, her eyes trained on the far wall.</p><p>The silence that follows is more deafening than if she’d shouted. In any other circumstance, she’d feel guilty for throwing at him without context. Now, though, she can’t stop... especially not when she hears his reassuring murmur. Not when she feels his hands grip her closer, wrapping around her middle.</p><p>And with that, it’s like she’s uncorked a stopper; every bizarre, mortifying thing she did to keep him alive suddenly spills over. “So I guess I... I guess I pretended I saw you everywhere at Hogwarts — even though I didn’t do it on purpose — because even for me, that would be a bit much,” she babbles, her thoughts only half-formed. “For some reason you were in all the places we used to snog, and also everywhere else, and I don’t know...” She trails off with a huff that ruffles the hair around her face. “It just... I didn’t realize until now that I haven’t done that this year and how fucking pathetic that was while you were gone, and—”</p><p>“Hey!” Harry interrupts, his arms gripping her waist more tightly. “Of all the things you are, love?” He kisses the top of her head. “Pathetic doesn’t make the list. Not even close.”</p><p>Ginny gives a delirious laugh and shifts until she’s propped on her elbow; she’s seized with the desire to see him, to prove (again) that he’s more than a memory. She’s not disappointed with what she finds. Harry’s put his glasses back on, but they’re lopsided and smudged and unmistakably human. His grin is lazy and warm, the type she couldn’t make up, not even if she tried. His eyes are roving over her chest, his jaw tense, as he attempts to take her seriously even though she’s naked.</p><p>“Anyway,” she adds, extending her finger to trail down his chest. “I guess it just hit me all once, that you haven’t, you know, <em>been</em> there. Even though I’ve missed you terribly.”</p><p>Harry arches a brow. “How terribly?” His hands start to dance up her side. “Please don’t spare the details, Ginny. A poor, lonely bloke needs something to go on.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “You know damn well how bloody terribly! How many pairs of knickers have I sent?”</p><p>Harry clucks his tongue. “Not enough, I’m afraid,” he laments, brushing the underside of her breast. Then he peers up at her, his face stretched into a grin. “After all, it’s hard to top the red ones.”</p><p>Ginny snorts before she can help it. Even though she’s naked — even though they’ve just shagged — she can’t help but feel vaguely abashed. “I still can’t believe I did that,” she mutters, running a hand down her face. “And more than once! For fuck’s sake, if my mother ever found out...”</p><p>Harry just laughs, shaking his head, but then something catches his eye behind her.</p><p>“Shit,” he swears, his eyes going wide, “is that really the time? We were supposed to be downstairs to meet them five minutes ago.”</p><p>He gives her a final, moaning kiss before he leaps to his feet and searches for his clothes. Ginny rolls her eyes again as she begrudgingly flings the blankets off. Even after all the time, he’s still more terrified of her brother than anything else...</p><p>“A lot of doors will open the moment you realize you’re Harry fucking Potter, you know,” she says archly, reaching for her bra. “You could even, you know, <em>ask</em> to properly spend the night with your girlfriend!”</p><p>Harry laughs from the corner of the room. “I <em>do </em>feel pretty terrible about shagging you and running off. But what can I say? You’re in school, and I’m training. It’s just not a good time.”</p><p>“Mmm.” She flips her hair out over her cloak and turns to examine herself in the mirror. She’s a bit pink in the cheeks, a bit bright in the eyes — but if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t <em>necessarily</em> know. At least that’s what she tells herself when she considers facing McGonagall later tonight.</p><p>“Will the next Hogsmeade visit be a good time, then?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. “Because a girl could get used to this, Harry.”</p><p>He shoots her reflection a surprisingly tender look before throwing his cloak on, too. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling. Assuming there isn’t too much drama at work.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t be,” Ginny says fairly, “so long as we keep those middle aged witches at bay.” She smirks and turns around to eye the red patches on his neck. “I<em> think</em> I’ve thoroughly marked you, but you never know...”</p><p>Harry laughs and uselessly tries to run a hand through his hair. Ginny muses, not for the first time, that his unruly hair serves a purpose in times like these; no one can tell if he’s been shagged or not.</p><p>With that in mind, she turns to the door with a skip in her step — but she quickly discovers Harry’s not on the same page. He’s suddenly become a bit contemplative, a bit sullen. His brow draws in a grimace as he kicks the floor with his trainer.</p><p>“Erm… but seriously, Ginny,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’m sorry you went through that last year.” He winces again, staring at his cuticles, before he turns to her with a shrug. “I’m glad I’m not there anymore, though. You seem… happier.”</p><p>“Definitely happier,” she confirms, taking a step forward. “Definitely. With <em>real</em> you.”</p><p>A ghost of a smile flits across Harry’s lips as he takes her hand. Ginny just leans into his warmth. Leans into <em>him</em>. Desperate to prove — again — how real he is.</p><p>“I’m quite fucking in love with you, actually,” Harry murmurs, eyes still focused on their joined hands. “Even if I can only show it by shagging you in hotel rooms every few months.”</p><p>He pulls back with a reluctant sigh, and when he peers at her again, his eyes are filled with so much love and devotion and compassion that she could cry.</p><p>If she were the sort who did that, of course. Which she’s not.</p><p><em>Right</em>.</p><p>So Ginny pushes down the swell of emotion, the warring forces of pleasure and pain, the feeling of the past meeting the present… and opts to torture him, instead. She rises to her tiptoes, drapes her arms around his neck, and leans in to deliver the final blow.</p><p>“You only visit me when I touch myself,” she whispers, nibbling at the shell of his ear.</p><p>And in retrospect, Ginny will accept that Harry’s answering groan was 100% worth the snide looks she got from Hermione the rest of the night.</p>
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